


prowl through empty fields, great cain

by bIoodbunny



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Bad Ending, Game: Silent Hill 3, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Gore, Mild Language, vincent is a rat as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bIoodbunny/pseuds/bIoodbunny
Summary: "i feel guilty, but i can't feel ashamed"heather and claudia get their revenge in their own ways. is one abel, or are they both cain?
Relationships: Alessa Gillespie & Claudia Wolf, Claudia Wolf & Vincent Smith
Kudos: 3





	prowl through empty fields, great cain

**Author's Note:**

> i basically barfed this out last night + this evening lmao. this is based off of the secret bad ending you can get in sh3 if you choose to shoot claudia with the handgun (or basically any gun) instead of using the aglaophotis. there's some of my personal headcanon that vincent, claudia, and alessa knew each other as kids, but vincent went his own separate ways before claudia called him back so she could find alessa.
> 
> title is from prowl, great cain by the mountain goats.

The air of the attic was stuffy and full of old dust as the three children sat in a circle – like they were preforming some sort of ritual – Alessa pawed at the plastic packaging that was concealing her sweet treat – jelly beans that she had managed to swipe from the grocery store when mama wasn't looking (the pink ones were her favorite, but Claudia liked those ones too so she’d save some for her). 

“What, can’t open ‘em?” Vincent took the bag from Alessa – she flinched in response but Vincent didn’t really seem to care all that much – and tore it open greedily. “There.” 

“Thanks.” Alessa stuck her lips out in a pout, but held out her hand like a beggar as Vincent dropped the jellybeans into her palm. 

They were green. Her _least_ favorite. 

Claudia managed to snag some pink ones from Vincent, and plopped one or two in Alessa’s hand when she wasn’t looking. She mumbled a “thank you” through a mouthful of the sweet stuff. Claudia giggled – a rare treat for Alessa. 

Vincent shuffled his weight on his hands and knees, those glasses-clad eyes gaze disconnected from the girls. He was always distant from them – the son of a rich preacher that had come to the Order’s call like a lapdog when he heard of the money that they had been making from their – ehm – services. 

Services, that’s what Daddy always calls them, Vincent mused. Wonder why? 

And then there was Claudia – daughter of Leonard, who was a fanatic by even the cult’s standards – he would not permit the teachings of the Holy Mother sect that Alessa’s momma had reintroduced not too long ago – as they seemed to care not for the intricacies of the religion and instead were focused on finding the womb that would bring Her Graciousness into the world. 

And the paradise that Alessa and she prayed for every single night. _No sickness, no war, no old age, and a loving mama and papa_ , they repeated like a mantra every night. 

Vincent, meanwhile, was the exact opposite. He cared little for going to church every day to listen to Her preaching, he preferred to play hooky so he could hang out with the older kids. 

Alessa didn’t know why, he always came back with a couple of new bruises, bashed up glasses, and a lighter pocket when he went to go play with those big kids. Maybe it’s a game to him, she thought. 

He used to be a bit – nicer, before he learned the big-kids game, Alessa remembered. She frowned – she had already finished her share of the jelly beans. And there was no use getting Vincent to share his, his hazel eyes scanning her disdainfully. 

Claudia jolted Alessa awake from her (she had to admit it) childish self-pity with a nudge to the shoulder. “Remember, it’s my birthday tomorrow.” 

“ _We know – you've only told us a hundred times today._ ” Vincent snapped. Alessa scrunched up her face at him. 

“Shut up, Vincent.” Vincent glared at her, mumbling something under his breath – defeated once again. 

“I’ll make you a card.” Alessa ran her pale fingers through Claudia’s ever-flowing platinum blonde hair. _Wonder if she’d like one of my spare ponytail holders, too?_

* * *

_Happy 7th birthday Claudia. I love you as if you were my real sister. Here’s to you._ Claudia read it over and over and over again in a daze like this was the most important thing ever written (it was, to her). 

Claudia hadn’t seen Alessa in a while, and it had been months since her birthday, but she couldn’t care less. This made her happy enough. She was surprised papa had even given it to her – all the other times Alessa had given her something he had made a big fuss and threw it away. 

_Maybe he’s not mad at Ms. Gillespie anymore_ , Claudia wondered, fingers ghosting over the postcard’s glossy finish. She thought of being in a big field full of flowers, running her fingers through Alessa’s hair, fragrance spreading everywhere around them as they played in their Paradise. 

Claudia would pray again that night that she would see her again soon. Maybe, just maybe it would come true this time.

* * *

“So, she’s dead?” Daddy had told Vincent the news ever-so-carefully as to not reveal too much of what had happened, but Vincent knew when Daddy was trying to hide the truth from him. 

Body charred completely through, they had said, she barely looked like a human. Vincent’s mind filled with images of what exactly that would look like. While the adults all seemed to get choked up over themselves and couldn’t bring themselves to even say it Vincent found it – fascinating. Yes, that was the word for it. 

Vincent’s hand wandered over to his pockets, which were empty – he had gone to play with the older kids the day before he had heard the news of her passing. He liked going to those boys, even though they left him bruised and penniless – they made him feel like he had something in common with those two girls, who whenever they had those far and few between precious moments where they could all be together over at Alessa’s house, there was never a day where they didn’t have a bruise or a scrape between them. 

Claudia always said it was because she was so “clumsy”, ha! _Clumsy_. Vincent knew the truth – Leonard would beat her every night, made her cry, if she didn’t recite the Holy Scriptures of sublime perfection, or she went crawling home talking about her sweet, dearest Alessa. 

He couldn’t imagine having to deal with that – Daddy was always nice to him. 

Vincent figured he couldn’t kid himself any longer – he couldn’t be any more different from those girls. So why try?

* * *

_Alessa was dead_. Father had told her that night. Claudia cried all night and into the next one. Her only friend – _gone_. 

She had been burned – on purpose by Ms. Gillespie, they had said. “Nothing good can come of this religious shit.” A man was going off on the news report that morning, his eyes filled with disgust and pity for the little girl. 

But – Claudia had a little bit of hope left – if Alessa got burned, then that would mean that she would soon be ready to birth Her into this world and create Paradise – _oh, the world they both wanted was nearly there._

She knew Alessa would be suffering, but all beautiful and wonderful things come at a cost – father had told her in one of his lessons years ago. It still stuck in little Claudia’s brain like glue, a promise that even though things were oh-so terrible now, they would lead to happier days. 

The hospital director had promised the Wolf family that they would be able to see her tomorrow – Claudia held onto her hope. 

The day after – the director had told Leonard that they would not be permitted to visit Alessa in a huff – apparently the head doctor (Claudia didn’t like him very much, he was mean) had changed his mind real quick. 

She heard something about a trainee nurse who was taking care of Alessa, too – Lisa might’ve been her name?

* * *

_There’s been such a fuss lately, something about a dead person coming back to life?_

It had been 17 years since then, that man, Harry Mason, had stolen her dearest Alessa away from her. It had been 14 years since she had gotten back into contact with Vincent – now going under the pseudonym Mr. Smith – he was now a famed preacher of the order, a deceitful man sitting on his ever-growing stacks of cash, just like his father before him. 

She didn’t like working with that snake in the grass, but she had no choice if she wanted to be reunited with her and Her. She had to admit – he did a good job tracking her down, along with Mr. Cartland, of course. 

The evening sun was setting over the horizon near Daisy Villa. The red of the sun coated the streets, the buildings, and the two figures standing around like lingering ghosts near the apartment. Vincent lit a cigarette, filling Claudia’s lungs with the scratchy tobacco. 

It reminded her of father. 

“So, ha, you think he’s here?” Vincent said with a smirk through little coughs. Claudia resisted the urge to throttle him. “You’re going to kill him?” Vincent’s tone was Shakespearean – as if he saw himself as an actor in the crazy play that was the Order. 

“I’m doing what I must, Vincent – revenge for 17 years ago, and to fill the hate within her.” Vincent scoffed at this, blowing out more puffs of smoke into the misty air. Claudia put her feet before the steps and lifted a hand to open the front door before Vincent stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

“There’s always a chance to back out, you know?” Claudia knew that this wasn’t hesitation through sympathy for Alessa dearest or that man. He had always viewed Her birth as an obstacle – an obstacle to pieces of dirt like him. Claudia continued onward, the spare key she had gotten from him making a clicking sound in the lock. 

Vincent didn’t follow her – he leaned back against the door, sighing. He had already smoked his cig to the nub. He couldn’t stop Claudia himself no matter how much he wanted to - 

Not without Heather’s (Alessa’s) help he wouldn’t.

* * *

_I merely gave the order._

The deed had been done – even though Claudia had not been the one to strike the blade through the man’s heart, the blood was still on her hands, literally and figuratively. She wiped the scarlet marks off onto the hip of her black dress. 

Harry sat in his chair, pitifully crumpled up with his head slumped over, his face obscured. One might think he had simply fallen asleep in his chair after watching T.V., if not for the blood that caked his chest. 

He had barely given up a fight as the monster drove its blade into him – Claudia could laugh – all that bravado and courage in him must’ve dissipated in the last 17 years. Claudia felt the twinge of her consciousness reminding her of her guilt, but she didn’t have it in her to feel ashamed about what she had done, for it was for the good of mankind. 

One _death for millions of people to be freed._

The growls of the former Order member could be heard outside the apartment as it stalked around the balcony, searching for its next target. 

_Calm yourself_ , Claudia thought to herself, _for we need Her alive so that She may be born._

The wind played with Claudia’s hair, and the sun was quickly setting – Alessa would be here soon enough. 

_The one that will lead us to Paradise with bloodstained hands, would that be Her or Claudia?_

* * *

_When I find her, I’ll kill her myself. I don’t care about God or Paradise._

Heather rampaged through the Other church (the once-beautiful one she remembered having visited with Mother all those years ago, when she was not Heather but Alessa), tired and angry and arms and fingers and hair caked with the gore of the monsters that endlessly tried to ravage her as she went on her war path. 

“Revenge doesn’t solve anything”, Douglas’ voice rang in her ears as she swung a rusty old steel pipe in the direction of one of those things that looked like the monster that had killed her father – imagining it was Claudia as its face, if it could even be called that, turned into nothing but a pile of red and black sludge underneath her heels. 

_Old fool._ She felt a twinge of guilt, realizing Douglas must be in a lot pain, sitting there in the amusement park with a broken leg – if Claudia or that rat hadn’t gotten to him yet. 

She marched forward like heaven itself was guiding her, through the seemingly-identical blood-soaked hallways that messed with her mind, feeling like somebody was digging around in her skull and pinpointing exactly what frightened her the most. 

Another door creaked open and she forced herself through it – it was – Midwich. An exact replica like it had been transported from Silent Hill directly to this church. Memories of her, Claudia, and Vincent huddling together – the outcasts – while the other children slung cries of “witch” and “freaks” at them like stones. 

She thought of that angel, Ms. Gordon, who had come to her in her time of need – and disappeared as twice as quick. She never did find out what had happened to her. 

_Focus_ , Heather reminded herself, _you need to focus on stopping Her birth._

Heather barged through the doors, hand twitching over the pocket where her gun lay idle, waiting for its chance to shoot. 

_Claudia, my dear little sister._

* * *

_You can stay in your own little dream world._

White hot rage overcame Heather as Claudia droned on, speaking of nonsense and fire cleansing and Paradise and Her salvation. Her hand twitched again, over the pocket where her gun was – she reached with a shaky hand to grab it before an intense pain washed over her, causing her to double over with a sharp groan. 

Claudia just looked at her with eyes filled with excitement. She could shoot her now if she wasn’t in. So. Much. Pain. 

“The world you wanted in nearly here.” _Bullshit._ Pain wracked Heather again, but an idea was brewing in her head – if she could convince Claudia that she was Alessa (she was both not her and her at the same time. Confusing.) then maybe she could buy herself some time and - 

_Get revenge for how she hurt her._

“Claudia, my dear sweet sister,” Alessa (Heather) started, trying to hide the smile forming on the edges of her lips as Claudia seemed convinced by this act, eyes shining, stuck in her own little dream world.

* * *

_Checkmate._

The gun felt both weightless and heavy in her hand as she aimed it at her dear sweet sister. Claudia looked like she had been expecting this reaction, nodding but saying nothing in response to having her life being threatened. She clasped her hands together in prayer.

An animal-like growl rose up in Heather’s throat at her fingers twitched over the trigger. She’d feel guilty – of course, for killing her best friend, but she had to ask herself, _did Claudia feel guilty when she brutally murdered her father?_

They both wanted the same thing, of course. Just with differing outcomes of their choices. 

Heather’s eyes closed as she fired that fateful shot, still not used to killing even after all those monsters. She was still a child (though she didn’t want to admit it), after all. Heather had a moment of silence to let it sink in what she had just done before an overwhelming pain that wracked her whole body and made tears streak from her eyes overcame her. 

She doubled over, body red hot and something pulsating on her skin. She reached with shaking hands to her necklace but she couldn’t open the locket no matter how hard she tried it, pain overtaking every feeling. 

The last thing she felt was searing and tearing in her stomach. 

_Her arrival was finally here._


End file.
